


Solar Flares

by 4eeldrive



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4eeldrive/pseuds/4eeldrive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meulin joins up with Kankri and Porrim, and after developing feeelings for the Signless, begins to fall in love with the Dolorosa as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solar Flares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesbian_jackinthebox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbian_jackinthebox/gifts).



They were both like the sun to her.

There was a danger and a fire to Kankri’s words. In Alternian legend, the sun had once burned so hot that the surface of the planet was uninhabitable, a wasteland of fire and desert. The trolls had grown underground, tunneling through the dirt, clawing their way through stone and the vast empty belly of the world until the sun cooled and they had evolved enough to dominate the planet. Kankri’s words were like that sun, liable to burn away the surface of the planet in their fury and power, with the emotions they evoked. Kankri’s message itself was not one of destructive, but the raw power was there. And Imperial forces certainly viewed him as the same level of threat as a planet wide inferno.

Porrim was like the current sun. Devastating to look at, an unstoppable force, and still strangely nurturing. The sun was a dangerous thing, but the more beautiful for it, and life would not happen without it. Meulin felt similar about Porrim; she was never a danger to Meulin or her son, but Meulin almost felt pity for the odd groups of bandits who chose to attack the little family. Tight muscle and gleaming fangs and a devotion to her son and his followers, fearsome and nurturing all at once, they would all be dead without her.

She loved them both.

Alternia had two moons, after all. Why should The Disciple not have two suns in her life?

 

\---

 

The Jade Mother had never been her Mother, had never replaced the Disciple’s dead lusus. She had never quite understood the Sufferer’s relation to her in that sense. It was strange and foreign, and no matter how often she tried to put to words the relationship between the Signless and his Mother, she never understood it. For the Disciple, Porrim was something else entirely.

Meulin had stumbled upon the mother and son, hurt and hungry, hoping to steal supplies for herself from a small village. She had paused to catch her breath; crouched behind the crumbling wall of an abandoned granary, nursing the broken arm she had won herself in a fight with a cholerbear. While she rested, a preacher had set up a ways away, but still within Meulin’s earshot. He, and the small and derisive crowd that gathered around him in the empty field, meant she’d be pinned there until they left, unless she wanted to risk being seen. It was still too early to plant, and the crowd was starting to kick up dirt as they grew irate, but not so much that Meulin could use the dust clod as cover to escape.

So she waited, and listened. His words were strange, and had at first seemed laughable, but as she listened, it began to make sense. She probably did not deserve to be hurt and hungry because of something so frivolous and immutable as her blood color. She was smart and strong and had survived for so long on her own, why should olive blood somehow negate that and her worth.

His words were all nice once they made sense in her head. But the thing that had really sealed her devotion, her conversion, her decision to travel along with the preacher, had been the jade blood quietly watching the proceedings. She seemed angry, barely contained, ready to destroy those who jeered at the young man and his words, but just managing to hold herself back, perhaps at his wishes. Rather than attack she paced back and forth behind her son, resembling in some ways a caged beast warily watching a crowd. Meulin crouched behind the wall, peering out to watch the jade blood, until the two of them made eye contact. Meulin immediately ducked back behind the wall; worried she would burn away under the intensity of the other woman’s gaze. A part of her thought that wouldn't be so bad, though.

Meulin risked one more peek, and saw that the jade blood had stopped her pacing, and sparing one last angry look for the crowd, began to walk straight towards Meulin. As she rounded the wall, Meulin tried to pull herself up more, struggling to stand in case the other woman attacked. She failed, and grabbed her spear instead. The jade blood rounded the bend, and rather than attack, merely knelt, bringing herself down to Meulin’s level. 

“You appear to be hurt, may I help?” The question was growled, like she was still focused on her anger at the crowd, although she had caught herself near the end, and softened her voice out.

“No, ‘m all right.” Meulin mumbled, shifting a bit to try and hide her broken arm, only succeeding in putting a painful amount of pressure on it instead. She winced, and the other woman clearly saw.

“I normally only qualify myself as fine when my limbs are unbroken, but that is just a personal preference on my part, I would suppose. Please, let me see,” She extended her hands, giving Meulin the choice to lean into her help. Meulin peered at her, trying to get a better read. Her eyes were off, her irises almost indiscernible from the black of her pupils. Only a slight ring of jade at their very edges bellied her blood color. Which meant she was dead.

Being offered help from the dead was almost as rare as being offered help from the living, but there was no sign of cruelty in her dead eyes, so Meulin leaned into her, although she still held onto her spear. The jade blood ghosted her fingers across Meulin’s arm, checking for where the break was. Meulin was fairly certain her arm was broken in at least two places. The jade blood “hmm’d” to herself several times, frowning as she looked Meulin over.

“I can splint this, but I don’t have my supplies with me.” The woman sighed and leaned back from Meulin. “I suppose if you wanted to follow us when we’re finished, I can see to your arm.” 

Meulin snorted. Of course she was going to follow a stranger out into the wilderness, that had never gone wrong for anyone on Alternia. The jade blood spared her a small smile in response.

“Normally, that would be the correct sentiment. But I assure you, I will merely bandage your arm, not rob and murder you.”

“I’ll bet.” Meulin’s fingers tightened a little around the haft of her spear. She could probably slow the dead woman down a little, at least, if it came to it. Meulin normally avoided confrontations with the undead.

The jade blood nodded distractedly at Meulin’s words, before redirecting her attention to the preacher. He seemed to be in a fight with the crowd now, everyone yelling at everyone. The jade blood’s lips dipped down into a full-on snarl as she pulled herself up to standing. Meulin scotched herself away. She was very tall, even for a jade blood, and all her muscles were coiled in preparation for an attack.

The preacher caught sight of her and waved frantically. The jade blood groaned at the sight of his rapidly pin wheeling arms, and sat back down. The preacher abandoned his argument with the crowd, and pushed his way through the still jeering throng towards Meulin and the jade blood. A few trolls followed him for a bit, trying to bait him into a confrontation, but most of the crowd dispersed. Eventually even the stragglers dropped it and left him alone, as they caught sight of Meulin, her spear, and the very angry jade blood.

“Hello Mother,” the preacher greeted the jade blood. What an odd name she had. Even later, when Meulin had learned that her name was Porrim, and Mother some sort of title, the word had never fit correctly in her mouth. It felt off, wrong, to call her that.

“Hello to you as well.” He sounded genuinely cheerful when he greeted her. 

“’Lo,” Meulin mumbled back. She had kept her interactions with other trolls to a minimum her entire life, and now here were two people suddenly taking a great interest in her. It was worrisome, at best.

“My mother could likely mend that arm, if you’d let her. And we’d have to go get our supplies first, but you’re welcome to walk along with us. Less waiting around that way.”

Meulin was baffled. She supposed the preacher’s words, this whole interaction, could be a ploy to lure the gullible out into the wilderness to murder them. Joke was on them, though, all she had was a spear. They’d go to all that effort and get nothing for it. But then the jade blood reached out and rested her hand on Meulin’s shoulder, and her touch was so gentle.

Meulin, decided she’d go along with them, just for a little bit.

She left the little village in their company, and Kankri chattered away, asking her question after question about herself. Occasionally Porrim would shush him so that Meulin could actually answer. 

Their gear was stashed in the middle of a great stand of rocks, a good walk away from the town. Porrim had to boulder her way to retrieve it. When she came back, she immediately set to work splinting up Meulin’s arm, careful and still gentle.

“In case we need to make a quick getaway,” Kankri explained. In an absolute catastrophe, they could flee without being weighed down by all their supplies, and could potentially double back if they slipped their pursuers to retrieve their things.

At least they weren’t incompetent, even if they purposefully skirted the danger of rioting crowds regularly.

 

\---

 

Meulin had initially meant to travel along with Porrim and Kankri just for a little while, but Kankri’s words continued to make sense, Porrim continued to fret over her long after her arm was healed, and both their company continued to be pleasurable. So Meulin stayed and became devoted to the cause, and to the two of them.

She admired Kankri’s words, and Porrim’s strength. Kankri could soothe or incite the masses, and Porrim could dispatch the living and the undead in equal measure. Where Kankri was lovable in his attempts at softness, Porrim was lovable in her sharpness – she was no nonsense, but there was a physical sharpness about her as well – high cheekbones, beaked nose, and those lovely fangs. Porrim’s wit and tongue had talked them out of trouble that her son’s own wit and tongue had talked them into, which was not to say that Porrim had not provoked her own share of trouble as well in her occasional fits of anger.

By the time the Psiionic joined up, the Disciple could hardly bear to look at either of them. It tore her up inside. Already she has broken all quadrant norms, her and the Signless becoming all things for each other. Surely it would not be so terrible should she also feel flush for Porrim. During the early morning at camp, she would sit between the two of them, a position that felt correct to her, at the right hand of the Signless and the left hand of the Jade Mother. It was how they were in the political sphere, the Preacher, the Scribe, and the Guardian, and it was how she wanted it to be in their small private lives as well. 

In those early morning hours, Porrim would croon old stories that only the jade bloods knew, told only in the depths of the breeding caverns, all a mix between a prayer and a tragedy. Kankri and Meulin would risk the rising sun to hear the end of her tales, urging her to finish that night still. It was clear where the Signless had gotten his finesse with words. Sometimes Meulin would tell her own stories. She felt much better writing; it gave her time to think about what she was trying to say, exactly which words fit best. Ink gave her the benefit of illustration as well. Instead of struggling with descriptions about the way a crowd had reacted to a sermon, she could draw it. 

She had spent a long time by herself, and talking was sometimes laborious for her. Kankri and Porrim always listened to her though, and sometimes she would even catch Porrim leaning forwards, eager for the rest of the story. It made her heart ache a little, and was made worse when it happened while she was holding hands with Kankri.

 

\---

 

Meulin sat beneath a tree in the only dry spot of earth they could find, with Porrim kneeling besides her. Porrim sighed as she stitched up Meulin’s arm. The two of them had been chased deep into a swamp by a group of threshecutioners, one of whom had succeeded in grazing Meulin’s arm with his saber. Worse, they’d been separated from Kankri and Mituna while trying to flee. The other two were probably fine, as most of the threshecutioners had chased Porrim and herself, and eventually been dispatched by Porrim’s saw and Meulin’s spear after a tough fight. 

“It will leave a tough looking scar, at least,” Meulin offered, trying to make light of the situation. Porrim was furious over the whole affair. She was soaking wet from being knocked into the swamp water during the fight, anxious over Kankri, and over Meulin’s wound.

“I am just worried about it getting infected. It doesn’t matter how tough you look if you’re dead.” The few medical supplies Porrim carried on her had also gotten soaked in the murky water, and although she had succeeded in making a fire to sterilize her tools, Meulin could tell she was still agonizing over it. Her lips were bleeding with how much she had bit at them.

“You did the best you could, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Porrim sighed again, but nodded.

“Yes, of course. It will be fine.” Meulin watched the crow’s feet at the corner of Porrim’s eyes, so deep already for her young age, tug up with a half-hearted smile.

Meulin wanted to do something more to assure her, but couldn’t think of anything. “Why don’t we find our way out of here, and then you can take a look again?” she weakly suggested instead.

“That would be best. I’m sorry for my short temper.” Porrim stood up, and then offered Meulin a hand, helping her to her feet.

Alone out in the marsh, a thin film of mist obscuring the horizon, The Disciple could almost fool herself that it was just the two of them, no Kankri to worry about, no army of highbloods out for their heretical blood and words. Just her and Porrim, and her feelings for her that she needed to do something about.

Porrim had walked out in front of her, trying to forge a way through the marsh. Meulin did her best to walk where she did, but couldn’t keep up with her long legs, and wound up stepping into the wettest parts of the marsh just as much as she managed to find dry ground. Her feet were wet, and Porrim far ahead, and for the briefest moment she felt herself panic, in fear that Porrim would leave her behind.

“Wait,” Meulin called out, not daring to speak any more. She was worried that with each additional word, everything would tumble out of her in an ungainly mess that neither her nor Porrim would be able to untangle. Better she say what she needed to while talking as little as possible. 

Porrim turned at her call, and walked the short distance back. Her feet kicked up the damp earth of the marsh, long strings of pond scum trailing from her boots. 

“Are you all right?” Porrim leaned closer to her, and her lovely fangs were so close. The Disciple had fought larger predators with far bigger teeth before, but this was a different kind of battle. Maybe battle wasn’t the correct word, but there was the same kind of churning in her belly that always came before a fight.

“I have a thing, which I have been meaning to tell you. And this thing, it is maybe too much, too much of a thing, so I would hope that you would not, I mean, you can react in any way you want, but,” Meulin stopped and snarled, angry at the failure of her own words. She had never been one for talking; action always came easier to her. Porrim , always kind, waited patiently for Meulin to continue.

“Well, I’ll listen at the very least,” Porrim flashed her a smile and took Meulin’s hands in her own. A swamp wasn’t exactly where she had wanted to tell Porrim about her feelings, but Meulin resolved herself to act nevertheless, and drew the other woman closer to herself. Porrim was tall, and Meulin had to stretch out to reach her lips with her own.

Porrim leaned into the kiss, but Meulin still panicked and pulled away. She wanted to make sure everything was all right, that Porrim was all right, that she hadn’t overstepped some crucial boundary. Porrim simply pulled her back before she could even start to untangle her words, and kissed her. It wasn’t a chaste kiss, but she still pulled back whenever the Disciple tried to deepen it. Instead, Porrim repaid her with light kisses across her face before returning to her mouth.

The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon, and the little sliver of light Meulin could see when she opened her eyes to try and look at Porrim was making her dizzy. She pulled away again, squinting to try and even look at the other woman through the blinding glare of the sun.

“We should probably hurry, and try and find the others.” Meulin didn’t really care for her own suggestion, but it was better than passing out from the sun. She was very fond of Porrim’s strong arms, but didn’t particularly want to have to be carried back in them. 

“I am sure Kankri and Mituna are all right. But finding a place for you out of the sun would at least be a good start.” Porrim smiled at her. The Disciple had always had trouble reading faces, having been alone for so much of her early life. Curved up was a smile, curved down was a frown, and both could be a snarl, but then even within those categories there were many different meanings for each smile, frown, and snarl. 

Porrim had yet to let go of her hands, and intertwined their fingers. The little motion cleared up the mystery behind the meaning of her smile. Meulin smiled back. She let go of one of Porrim’s hands, but continued to hold on to the other. As they walked together out of the marsh, she was too excited to talk at all, and each time she looked over at Porrim, the other woman blushed, just slightly, and grinned back at her. She was radiant.

The Disciple was beginning to understand Porrim’s fondness for the sun.


End file.
